In the booth, Amarjeet drew the curtain, held the pen with shaking fingers. He filled in the ballot for Cox. Harding’s platform called for a “return to normalcy.” Amarjeet did not believe that was possible. He voted NO for the Alien Land Law. When he left the voting booth, he avoided meeting anyone’s eye.

It was clear to him now. Everyone was struggling, but to the real Americans, it did not seem right that aliens could struggle alongside them. That some might actually be succeeding when the Americans came up short. Orientals were to be fieldworkers and packers because such laborers were desperately needed and could not be too uppity; workers and packers always knew their place. It was only the best Oriental entrepreneurs who should be made to leave: those who discovered ways to protect unripe cantaloupe, invented hybrid lettuce, grew peas where others had failed, earned themselves nicknames like the “potato king” and the “strawberry baron.” The successful ones who had settled and raised families and made homes here, the Japanese—especially the Japanese—must go.

Four days later, Amarjeet brought the newspaper from town and laid it on the table on the porch. The Alien Land Law had passed, by a vote of 3,962 to 1,743 in Imperial County. Such a large majority. Mr. Moriyama had been right all along.

Now if Harry’s family wanted to farm in Fredonia, they would have to depend on the kindness of the Consolidated Fruit Company, on its willingness to break the law. The Moriyamas could not purchase land in the Valley as Jivan had, or even lease it. They had no citizen to rely on; Harry was dead.

AMARJEET AND HIS UNCLE were standing with Mr. Moriyama on his porch. They could see the western border with the Singhs’ land. “What will you do?” his uncle asked.

“Lease finished January one,” Tomoya said.

“I know,” Jivan said.

“Consolidated tell me they no renew. They tell me—it breaking law.” He smiled a bitter smile. “They offer me foreman job same land.”

Amarjeet and Jivan were quiet. How could one respond to that humiliation? Amarjeet saw his uncle kick the dirt with his boot.

“They offer pay. Take order. Same land I farming.” Tomoya snorted. “I say no.”

For a moment, Amarjeet felt a gulf open between them. His uncle and Mr. Moriyama were not equals anymore. He felt uncomfortable, distressed.

“Clive knows you all developed the way to cover cantaloupe and protect from the sun,” Jivan said. “Now entire valley is following your way. He is knowing you shipped those peas last month. Right after that bloody election. Two months earlier than anyone else.”

Tomoya looked at him gratefully. “He is not law.”

“He gains from the law, Mr. Moriyama,” Amarjeet said.

“You can form syndicate,” Jivan said. “So many have done that. Jasper Davis from the bank would support you. Definitely Jasper can collect one-two other Anglos to form it. Bypass the law.”